A Tribulation Christmas
by KathyG
Summary: In story #5 of my end-times series, a father and daughter are unable to get into the Christmas spirit. Will the angels be able to help them regain it?
1. Prologue

**A TRIBULATION CHRISTMAS**

**By KathyG.**

**What would Tess, Monica, Andrew, and Gloria do, if they found themselves during the end-times scenario prophesied in the Bible, prior to Jesus' coming? What kinds of assignments would they receive? How would they handle their assignments? This alternate-universe series is my attempt to answer that question, to surmise how the angels would handle the events of the Rapture and the Tribulation.**

**The first story in this ongoing series was written by Robin Day and myself. The rest, I am writing on my own.**

**In story #5 of my end-times series, a father and daughter are unable to get into the Christmas spirit. Will the angels be able to help them regain it?**

**PROLOGUE**

A man in his 40s knelt in the corner of his attic, gazing down at a box of Christmas decorations. He had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Frowning, shoulders slumped, he picked up a ball, then dropped it; it landed with a tinkle in the box. The man sighed, then rubbed back his dark-brown hair.

A soft _coo!_ startled him; turning around, he saw a snow-white dove perched on the windowpane's ledge outside, turning its head this way and that. Behind the dove, the late-afternoon golden sunlight poured through the attic window, forming a rectangle of reflected light on the floor. Pursing his lips, the man turned his attention back to the decorations.

Unknown to him, four angels stood watching him from the opposite corner. "Randy Oates," Monica said softly. "He is a sad man. Very sad." A pair of pearl earrings swung back and forth on her earlobes as she looked from one angel to another.

Tess nodded agreement. A ruby brooch sparkled on her chest in the attic's overhead light. "Indeed, he is, Miss Wings. Randy's been grief-stricken ever since his wife was taken in the Rapture." She clasped her hands together.

At the sound of footsteps, the angels paused. A teenage girl with long reddish-blonde hair and a fair complexion appeared in the doorway. "Dad, aren't you going to eat?" She spoke hesitantly, as if fearing that disturbing her father would anger him. "Supper's getting cold." She ran her fingers through her hair as she waited for his response.

Annoyance creased the man's face, but he bit his lower lip in an evident effort to control it. "I suppose it is," he said. "I'll be downstairs in a minute, Kristen. You go on down." He turned back to the box.

Misery etching her face, Kristen, after a longing glance at the boxes containing the Christmas decorations, trudged back down the stairs. Tess shook her head. "He's so wrapped up in his own misery, he's been neglecting his daughter ever since. And now, Christmas is coming-"

"-and he is not in the holiday spirit," Andrew finished.

Tess nodded agreement. "That's right. If we don't do our job, Christmas will robbed of all its meaning for this family." The angel of death nodded agreement, sadness welling in his eyes as he watched the man.

Gloria furrowed her eyebrows. "None of the communities we've visited have played Christmas music, put up ornaments, or anything. People seem to have lost the spirit of Christmas all over the world." She winced. "That's really sad."

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, then brushed her shoulder-length, reddish-brown hair out of her eyes. She glanced out the window at the thin covering of snow on the ground. She could barely see a trail of footprints leading from the driveway toward the front porch. Randy had arrived home from work less than an hour before, and had immediately come to the attic.

Monica nodded. "It certainly is. And the leader of the new world religion is doing his best to make sure it never returns. Already, he's sent orders to every nation that any church putting on a Christmas pageant will be shut down and the participants arrested. Antonio Puccini has agreed."

Tess pursed her lips. "We'll see that the pope's orders do not succeed here. The people of this community need Christmas. Especially now, and especially the Oates family." She looked from one angel to another, a stern look in her eyes. "And the Father has given us orders to bring it to them." She paused. "Randy wouldn't allow his wife to bring him or their daughter to the Lord. Nor would he let her share her faith with him; she was forced to keep it all to herself. Now he's grieving because she's gone."

As the other angels nodded acquiescence, she led the way out of the attic. In the doorway, Monica paused to look at Randy once more. The man rose to his feet, sighed again, and trudged toward Monica, unaware of her presence. Whispering a silent prayer, Monica hurried downstairs to join the other angels. Spreading its wings, the dove flew away. 

**END OF PROLOGUE **

**CHAPTER 1**

"Daddy, I made us some stew," Kristen announced, as her father entered the dining room. She gazed at him hopefully.

Nodding, Randy plopped into a hard-backed chair and folded his hands on the smooth dining table. "That's fine, dear. I'm ready." He slumped against the edge of the table, staring down at its polished surface. "How was school today?" He did not look at her.

Kristen shrugged. "OK, I guess." Her tone indicated otherwise, but Randy paid no attention.

Kristen ladled two bowls of stew and set one before her father. In silence, they ate. As he chewed his portion in savory mouthfuls, Randy thought about his wife.

Grief engulfed his heart. He missed his wife terribly. Without her to celebrate with him, he could no longer bring himself to celebrate Christmas, ever.

Randy's wife, Laura, had battled frail health for years. She had become a Christian shortly after their wedding, but she'd never been able to persuade her husband to give his heart to Christ. She had quit trying after he had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he was not interested. He had also forbidden her to take their only daughter to church, although he'd allowed Laura to attend herself.

When Randy laid down his spoon, Kristen gazed at him, fidgeting. He frowned at her. "What do you want?"

Biting her lip, Kristen stammered, "Well-uh-" She lowered her gaze as she spoke.

"Well, what?"

Taking a deep breath, Kristen looked straight at him. "I-I was thinking, Dad-" She paused. "Maybe we could put up the tree tonight. Christmas is next week, you know."

Randy shook his head. "We're not celebrating it. Not anymore." He pressed his fingertips against the smooth tabletop.

Kristen gaped at him, her face etched with shock. "Not celebrating it?! Why?"

Randy rose to his feet. "I just don't plain care about it anymore, Kristen. With your mother gone in those disappearances, I don't care about anything. I only celebrated it last year because you wanted to, but my heart wasn't in it. My heart will never be in it, so don't bug me!"

"But Dad-!" Kristen wailed.

Without a word, her father got a can of beer from the refrigerator, then left the dining room. Fighting back tears, Kristen picked up the bowls and spoons and took them to the kitchen. She paused to rub her eyes, then set the dishes in the sink. They landed with a clatter.

"I hate it here!" she muttered, as she turned on the faucet. Hot water poured into the sink; she squeezed a container of dishwashing liquid into the rising water. "Why did Dad have to move us here, anyway? Why couldn't we have stayed in Chicago? All my friends are there!"

She wiped her eyes, gazing down at the sudsy water rising in the sink. "We don't know anyone here! Daddy hasn't made any friends, and neither have I. I hate school here-I don't know anybody!" She banged her fist against the counter; the resulting thud caused pain to shoot through her hand, making her wince. "And now-we're not going to have Christmas! It's not fair!"

In the attic, Randy knelt over the pile of cardboard boxes containing the Christmas decorations. For several moments, he fingered pine cones, the wreath, tree balls, and icicles. The now half-empty can of beer stood on the floor next to him; he'd taken gulps of it on the way up.

As he gazed at one of the tree bells, resting in the palm of his hand, he shook his head. It gleamed in the overhead light as he glared down at it. "What's the use of keeping these decorations?" he muttered. "We're not going to celebrate anyway. They're just taking up unwanted space." He dropped the bell back in the box. It landed with a clink.

He set his jaw. "This is it!" he told himself, rising to his feet. "I'm getting rid of these decorations, all of them. Right now! I'm throwing them away!" He kicked the box, then glared out the window at the snow-covered ground below.

"Dad!" Kristen's voice carried up the stairway. "Dad, someone's ringing the doorbell!"

Randy bent over to pick up the beer can, then strode to the attic entrance. Sure enough, he could barely hear the doorbell jangling. "Go ahead and answer it! I'll be right down," he yelled.

He finished the beer, threw it in a garbage can, then rushed down the carpeted stairs; he found his daughter speaking with two women on the snow-covered porch. One was a heavy-set African-American; the other was slender, with long brown hair and an Irish accent. She held a casserole against her chest. Behind them, the snow glistened in the sunlight. Randy wrapped his arms around his chest as he began to shiver. Kristen, he noticed, was doing the same.

"Mr. Oates?" the black woman asked. Randy nodded. "I'm Tess, and this is Monica. We've stopped by to welcome you to this new neighborhood."

Randy smiled. "This is very good of you. Nobody's been by to welcome us here since we moved to this little town." He sighed. "That kind of surprised me, since I always thought towns were friendlier. Close-knit." He shook his head as he tightened his arms around his chest. "But then, everything's different nowadays."

"Yes." Sadness creased Monica's forehead. "They are."

Randy shook his head. "Forgive me, where are my manners? Come in! You must be cold." He stepped back. Tess and Monica entered the living room, their snow boots making soft thuds in the carpet. Flakes of snow drifted off their boots.

"Have a seat." Randy gestured toward the couch. Kristen took the casserole from Monica and carried it to the kitchen. The two visitors perched on adjoining armchairs; their mattresses sagged under them as they leaned back.

When Kristen returned, Monica smiled at her, then at her father. "We're pleased you've moved here."

"Thank you." Randy nodded. "We had to come here-our old house in the city held too many memories." He sighed. "My wife disappeared with the others, back in August, 2002. Some of my other relatives disappeared, too-my niece, my nephews. All were just children."

He slumped his shoulders, pain in his eyes. "But it was Laura's disappearance that hurt us the most. Kristen and I have been missing her ever since. It finally just got too painful to stay, so we sold the house and moved here." He grimaced. "I thought 9-11 was bad enough, till that happened."

Monica nodded. "So many people lost loved ones in the same occurrence," she said. "That happened to a great many people in this town. All over the world, in fact."

Tess nodded agreement. "We've got a program started at the nearby church. A support group, to help those who are still mourning the loss of their relatives. You'd be welcome to come, Mr. Oates."

Fingering the black leather straps of his watch, Randy shook his head. "No thanks! I want nothing to do with church. My daughter and I are not interested." He moved its smooth, glass-covered face up and down on his wrist.

The group lapsed into silence for the next several minutes. Kristen slumped against the wall, rubbing her fingers through her long hair; Randy stared down at his hands. Silently, Monica prayed that God would soften Randy's heart.

"Mr. Oates," she said, softly, "the support group is putting on a Christmas pageant for the community early next week. Tess, here, is organizing it." She gestured toward Tess, who nodded agreement. "You and Kristen are welcome to come."

Kristen's eyes lit up; she straightened her back. "I'd love to! Please, Dad, can I?"

"No!" Randy glared at her, as irritation surged in his heart. Going to a church pageant was the last thing he wanted to do! Kristen slumped her shoulders. "We are _not_ celebrating Christmas anymore; I told you that!" He pursed his lips; his eyes narrowed as he stared his daughter down. "You may not go, and I don't want to hear any more about it." 

**END OF CHAPTER 1 **

**CHAPTER 2**

Biting her lower lip, Kristen stared down at her feet. Without a word, she trudged out of the room, shoulders slumped. Her foot thuds faded as she went upstairs. Clearing her throat, Tess stood up. "I've got to get something out of the car."

She left the room. Monica rose to her feet, approached Randy, and perched next to him on the couch, propping her fingers on her knees. Studiously avoiding her face, he stared down at the polished coffee table, whizzing the face of his watch up and down with his thumb and forefinger.

"Mr. Oates," the soft-hearted angel said, gently, "your daughter is grieving, too, and not just for her mother. I sense that. Tell me, has she made friends yet at her new school?"

Randy shook his head. "No. Not to my knowledge. I know she wanted to stay with her old friends, but…" His voice trailed off. He continued to stare at the coffee table. Monica saw her own reflection, and his, in its surface.

She nodded. "Then she's feeling lonely. She's left her old friends, her school, everything that was dear and familiar to her. She has yet to make any friends here." She laid a hand on Randy's arm. "Your daughter desperately needs to make some. She needs something to occupy her. Give her pleasure." Randy stiffened, but Monica kept her hand on his arm.

She looked at him beseechingly. "Why not let her go? There are other teenagers there, in that support group; some of them are going to be in the pageant. All of them go to her new school. It would do her a world of good. She's all alone, staying at home day after day when she gets home from school."

Raising his head, Randy shook it as he stared at her through narrowed eyes. At last, he sighed. "Monica, I can see you're a persuasive woman." He smiled wryly. "I might add that you certainly have a gentle way about you. And a lovely accent."

He leaned back, sighing in surrender. "All right. She can go to the pageant. I certainly never wanted her to be lonely and unhappy." He bit his lower lip. "I suppose you'd like her to have a part, too. Tess is in charge of it, you say?"

"Yes." Monica smiled broadly. "If she wishes to have one, it would please us to have her. Meanwhile, why don't you let her come to the rehearsal tonight? It'll give her a chance to make some friends. Tess and I will be leaving for the church shortly; we'd be glad to take Kristen with us."

Randy rose to his feet. "OK." A wry smile spread across his face. "You know, I get the feeling your friend Tess isn't someone to fool with."

At that moment, Tess re-entered the living room, carrying a brochure. "Mr. Oates, have we your permission to take Kristen with us to the church?" Randy nodded, reluctance etched on his face. Tess smiled. "Rest assured, you won't regret it. It will be good for your daughter. And believe it or not, it'll be good for you, too."

She handed him the glossy brochure, then clasped her hands in front of her waist. "This is a brochure about our support group." With a sigh, he laid it on the coffee table. He gazed down at the newspaper and the television's remote control lying next to it.

Tess went to the foot of the stairway and called Kristen. The young girl came down; when she reached the floor, she slouched against the wall, gazing at Tess.

"Get your coat," Tess ordered. "Your father has given you permission to go to the pageant on Sunday. Meanwhile, how would you like to come with us to the rehearsal, to meet some other kids?"

Kristen's eyes lit up. She immediately straightened her back. "I'd love to! Thanks, Daddy." Randy waved toward her, dismissing her, then picked up his newspaper and sat down. He paid no further attention to the two angels. Tess shook her head as she frowned at him.

Kristen rushed up the stairs; a few minutes later, she darted back down, wearing a bright red coat and a brown winter cap. She raced out the front door, followed by Tess and Monica. She climbed into the front seat of the bright-red Cadillac, next to Tess. The air felt frigid, so Tess raised the convertible's top and turned on the heater.

As they pulled out, Kristen pulled a comb out of her coat pocket and ran it through her hair a few times. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the church.

The group entered the sanctuary, where adults and teenagers milled around in costumes. Their shoes softly thudded on the carpet as they strode up the middle aisle. Tess smiled. "I'm back, everybody! And I've brought in someone to take Maria's place."

A man wearing a shepherd's costume approached her. "Who?" He removed his glasses as he stared at Kristen.

"This young lady." Tess laid a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "She's going to play the role of Mary."

The others cheered; Kristen fought back a gulp, then rubbed her eyes. Nothing would please her more than to take part in a Christmas pageant-she missed the Christmas celebrations that had been so prevalent prior to the disappearances a year-and-a-half before. But she just knew her father would never approve!

Eyes wide with fear, she turned toward the heavy-set angel. "I-I'd love to take part, but-but-my dad…" Her voice trailed off. Clearing her throat, she added, "I want to, Tess. But my daddy will never let me. He hates Christmas." Misery welled up, forming a heavy stone in her heart. "He didn't used to, not while my mom was here. But now, he says we're never going to celebrate it again!"

Monica laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Kristen," she assured the young girl. "I'll have a talk with him, myself, while you and the others rehearse. I'll do what I can to persuade him."

Kristen nodded, but fear created a rise of nausea in her throat. _It'll take more than Monica to persuade my dad,_ she thought.

Tess patted her arm. "You sit here right now, while we finish rehearsing the scene about the angels and shepherds. I'll give you a costume when we're done, and then we'll start to rehearse your scene. You can make friends with the other kids here when rehearsal's done-they're going to play the angelic choir."

She picked up a baton and marched toward the stage. "All right! Time to take your places. We'll rehearse the shepherds' scene first, then we'll rehearse the angels' song."

Kristen removed her coat, her cap, and her gloves, and laid them on the front pew. She perched next to the pew's edge, and watched as Tess led the actors through their paces. At one point, a young woman with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair, whom Tess called Gloria, had a group of teenagers rehearse Christmas songs. All, she noticed, were dressed as angels.

Making a valiant effort to keep the longing out of her eyes, Kristen took a deep breath. There was no doubt in her mind that, as soon as her father found out, he would forbid not only her participation but her very attendance at the pageant. He had never allowed her mother to take her to church; he'd always been hostile toward the very idea.

_I wish my mom could have taken me to church,_ Kristen thought, shifting her gaze to the wood-paneled wall next to her. _These people are nice._

Old memories seeped into her mind. Kristen thought about how her mother used to sing her to sleep at night, after having her say her prayers…how she'd dress up for church, put on her favorite necklace and brooch, and dab her ears with some perfume…and how she would hug Kristen when she came home from school.

_My mom sure looked pretty in those nice church dresses,_ she thought. _And she always looked so happy when she came home. So peaceful!_ She ran her fingers through her hair as she reminisced.

"Kristen?" Tess's voice jolted her. "Come here, Kristen; Gloria and I have a costume for you. It's time for you to rehearse."

Rubbing her eyes, Kristen leaped to her feet and raced toward the stage. Tess held out a dark-blue woolen robe. She helped the young girl drape it around her body and over her head, then led her to a makeshift reconstruction of a stable. A teenage boy, dressed in a Bible robe, stood there, waiting.

Meanwhile, Gloria led the other teenagers off the stage and told them to sit on the front right pew. Returning to the stage, she pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed her reddish-brown hair out of her eyes.

"Hi." The boy smiled at Kristen. "I'm Travis Thompson. Nice to meet you. I'm playing Joseph."

"Thanks." Kristen plastered a smile on her face. "I'm Kristen. Kristen Oates. My dad and I just moved here a few weeks ago."

Before rehearsal could continue, the front door slammed open. A man wearing a gray business suit strode into the sanctuary, followed by a couple of policemen.

"Where is Pastor Thomas?" he asked. His voice boomed all over the sanctuary.

"I'm Pastor Thomas." A man wearing a clerical suit approached the visitor.

The other man stopped in front of the minister. "I am Allen Davidson, and I have come here to announce that church pageants in any form are forbidden. You are hereby ordered to cease and desist these preparations right now!" He scanned the actors and crew, a stern expression etching his face. 

**END OF CHAPTER 2 **

**CHAPTER 3**

As Kristen moaned, she froze to see a look of rage form on Tess's face. _She's mad!_ Kristen thought. _I'll bet she's going to tell him off!_ Gloria looked from Tess to the policeman, a bewildered expression on her face. Kristen approached the edge of the stage, followed by Travis, and stared at the man, then at Tess.

Rage indeed was surging in Tess's heart. Even though she had known, from ages past, that things would be this way during this perilous time of history, it still outraged her that the authorities would shut down all public expressions of Christian faith, including church pageants. Silently, she prayed for patience and discretion, then crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at the officer.

"And may I ask who gave these orders? And why?"

The man looked at her condescendingly. "The _pope_ gave the orders, madam, and for good reason. Christianity is-and has always been-an intolerant religion, and the pope will not brook that. No religion that claims there's only one way to God can be allowed in this day and age. This is a new day, a day of world community. Of oneness." He wagged his finger. "You people and others like you are endangering that oneness; that will not be tolerated."

He turned back to the pastor. "If you _must_ put on a pageant, put on one approved by the religion authorities. I can send you some skits to use. But this pageant will not be held; anyone attempting to perform it will be arrested and jailed!"

Without another word, he left, followed by the police officers. As the door slammed shut behind them, the participants murmured, dismay in their voices and on their faces. Gloria tilted her head, a bewildered expression still on her face. Kristen leaned against the podium, moaning softly. Next to her, Travis clenched his fists, glaring at the door.

Tess raised her hands for silence. "Listen, everybody!" The crowd fell silent. Putting her hands on her hips, Tess glared at the front door, then turned back to the participants. "Don't worry about what that man said. I will do everything I can to make sure the pageant is held, no matter what the pope's orders are." She wagged her finger for emphasis. "All of you, get back on the stage! We have much work to do."

She turned to Kristen. "Baby, that includes you. You and Travis take your places in the stable. Gloria, keep an eye on the other young people-you'll be leading them through their rehearsal again soon." Gloria nodded.

As they all resumed their rehearsals, Monica drove to the Oates house. Silently, she prayed that God would soften Randy's heart and open it to His love. The red sun had dropped below the houses. When she pulled up into the driveway, she saw some tinsel sticking out of the trash cans.

Monica hopped out of the red convertible and stopped when she reached them. Both were full of Christmas decorations. She sighed, as pain welled up. "So, Randy has thrown them away."

She raised her face toward the sky in silent prayer; receiving her orders, she approached the front door. Footfalls grew louder; a few seconds after she knocked, the door swung open. Randy stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped, a remote control in his left hand.

"Hi, Monica." He sighed. "Come on in."

Monica followed him into the living room. Randy gestured toward the couch. As Monica perched on it, she saw some brochures and pamphlets spread out on the coffee table. All, she noticed, had been sent by the new world religion. CNN was airing a special report about the new world religion's intended programs.

Randy plopped on the couch next to her; the mattress sagged underneath as he leaned back. He pressed the power button on the remote; the TV screen went black. The control landed on the coffee table with a thud; Randy gestured toward the brochures. "The new religion's been sending them out to everyone. I've been receiving them week after week. I was just going through them."

Biting his lip, he shook his head. "They really want everyone to join. I've even been getting calls from them, asking to come to my house and sign me up. I tell them no, I'm not interested."

Monica nodded. The news didn't surprise her. "They've been calling everybody." She clasped her hands as she spoke.

Randy leaned against the soft back of the couch. "I'll be honest, Monica; I don't feel right about this new religion. I've never liked the church, but…but…" His voice trailed off. Sighing heavily, he hung his head.

Pain welled up in Monica's heart as she watched him stare down at his hands, shoulders slumped. To think of anyone suffering as Randy was doing was awful. She yearned to ease his grief, and to give him and his daughter something to live and hope for.

"My wife was a fine woman," Randy said. "A little too religious for me, but a good wife and a good mother. She used to give me surprises when I was away on trips. Leave them in my suitcase. I'm a salesman, you see, and my job often takes me on the road." He sighed. "I sure took her for granted."

He looked up at the pine door across the room. "I loved Christmas when she was here. But with her gone-well, I just can't bring myself to celebrate it. Not anymore. It's been a year and a half since Laura disappeared, yet it feels like it was yesterday!" He shook his head. "I shouldn't have let Kristen go to that pageant rehearsal, Monica. It can't come to any good. Not for either of us."

Monica laid a hand on his shoulder. "Your daughter really needs something to bring some joy into her life. Something to rejoice over." She paused. "She needs the hope of Christmas now, more than she ever has. And so do you. When you feel least like celebrating Christmas, that's when you need it the most. Please think about it."

Randy did not respond. He looked down at his hands again, moving the face of his watch up and down with his thumb and forefinger. Monica squeezed his shoulders. "Why don't you let her have a part in the pageant? It would lift her spirits."

Randy stiffened and glared at her. "And depress mine!" he barked. "I want nothing to do with Christmas or church, now or ever!" Banging his fist on the table with a thud, he leaped to his feet. Monica slowly rose to hers, keeping her eyes fixed on his now-reddened face. "You're ganging up on me, both of you, and I won't have it! I want you to leave immediately!" He pointed toward the door.

In that instant, a pounding on the door startled them. Randy strode toward it and swung it open. "Oh! Hello, officer. Come in. Is something wrong?"

Andrew, wearing a gray winter coat over a policeman's uniform, stepped in, shaking snow off his gloved hands. Frigid air rushed into the living room, until Andrew shut the door. "Hello, Monica." Monica smiled in greeting.

The angel of death turned toward Randy. "Mr. Oates?" Randy nodded. "Mr. Oates, your daughter's in trouble." He spoke slowly.

"What?" Randy grabbed his coat collar. "Tell me! Where's my daughter; what's happened to her?"

Nodding toward Monica, Andrew unbuttoned his coat, then removed his police cap. His badge sparkled in the lamplight. Glancing at Monica, he squared his shoulders, his eyes somber. "I was just passing the church on the next block in my squad car; there were several police cars parked there and a police wagon. They were arresting the people inside the church. I stopped there to see what was happening."

Andrew paused, taking a deep breath. "One of them was your daughter. She was wearing a blue Mary costume. I was sent here to tell you." He paused again, sadness etched on his face. "They're going to be charged with unlawful assembly." He folded his hands across his chest. 

**END OF CHAPTER 3 **

**CHAPTER 4**

Randy stared at him, then at Monica, as shock and disbelief rushed through his whole being. Kristen arrested? Charged for unlawful assembly? And just for rehearsing for a Christmas pageant? It was unthinkable!

"I'll kill them," he muttered. "How dare they take my daughter?!" He clenched his hands into such tight balls his knuckles turned white.

Monica laid a hand on his arm. "We will go to the police station right now. When we get there, I'll do what I can to persuade the police captain to let them go."

Randy nodded. "I'll get my coat." He rushed upstairs, shoes thudding on the carpeted stairs, as Monica and Andrew exchanged troubled glances.

On the second floor, as Randy entered his bedroom, he stopped to take a deep breath. "Pull yourself together, Randy," he told himself. "You'll be no use to Kristen, like this." He gazed at a framed photograph of his wife, sitting on the nightstand next to his bed, then sighed. "Laura, you are so fortunate you're not here. You'd be crushed to see the churches being ground down like this."

Thinking about that brought back the memory of the night she had disappeared...

_Randy awakened from a sound sleep. Something was not right. _

_He turned over, and laid his arm across-a soft, crumpled bedspread. Nothing lay under it. Yawning, he opened his eyes, then froze. His wife was gone! _

_Frowning, he pushed himself upward into a half-sitting position. "Laura? Where are you?" _

_No answer. He maneuvered his legs over the edge of the bed, pushed the bedcovers back, and stood up. Pulling back the covers on his wife's side, he saw Laura's nightgown and dentures lying on the crumpled sheet. It was a silent August night, and darkness filled the room. _

"_Laura?" Randy called softly. He didn't want to wake Kristen. "Laura! Where are you?" _

_He rushed out of the room, and spent the next 15 minutes searching the whole house. Kristen was in bed asleep, but his wife was nowhere to be found!..._

Randy shook his head, attempting to drive away the memories. "Kristen needs my help now," he muttered, marching toward the closet door. "And she's going to get it!" He ground his teeth as he yanked the closet open. "I swear, so help me, if they do anything to my daughter, I'll wring their necks!"

Crouched on a bench in the crowded police station, Kristen rocked back and forth, weeping. "Why?" she moaned. "Why me? Why-_why-_?" Her voice choked.

"Shh." Tess's voice, low and soothing, calmed her; in the next instant, the heavy-set angel bent over to hug the hysterical girl. "God is with us, Kristen, and He will see us through this. These are bad times, all over the world, and it will be very hard on churches everywhere. All will need God to see them through these times."

Kristen shook her head, then wiped her eyes. "But why?" She glared at Tess. "It's no crime to put on a pageant!"

Sighing, Tess perched on the bench beside her. Clasping her hands together, she glanced out the window at the darkening landscape, then back at Kristen. "I'm afraid it is, now. Every nation on this planet is under a world government and a world religion, and that religion has forbidden Christian pageants."

She laid a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "Baby, listen to me. God is with us, and He intends for our pageant to be held. He will make a way to do it." Swallowing a sob, Kristen rubbed her eyes, then slouched against the wall. Tess put her arm around the young girl's shoulder, hugging Kristen against her. "It's OK, baby. I'm with you. And more importantly, so is God." Her perfume wafted toward Kristen's nose; the feel of Tess's arm around Kristen's upper back comforted her.

Nodding, Kristen scanned the assembled participants huddled in kneeling and sitting positions on the black-and-white tile floor. Even the other teenagers had been arrested; clasping a black leather purse in her right hand, Gloria was kneeling with them, trying to comfort them. Kristen had moved away from them earlier, not wanting to sit with the other kids in these conditions. At the captain's desk, an African-American man sat reading a sheaf of papers. An overhead light bulb shed a harsh light throughout the room. How long, Kristen wondered, until they would all be locked up in crowded jail cells?

The door swung open; her father marched into the station, face etched with an enraged expression, and followed by Monica and another policeman. Kristen leaped to her feet. "Daddy!"

Tess rose to her feet and touched the girl's shoulder. "Not now. Your daddy and Monica are here to try to get us released."

Andrew approached the police captain, who laid down his papers and leaned back in his chair. "Sam?" he said, in a low voice, as he leaned his elbow on the table's unyielding surface. Unknown to the humans beings held in that station, Sam was a Special Forces angel; he had seniority over Tess.

Sam nodded. "The regular captain was called out on an emergency, and he won't be back tonight." As Monica stepped up next to Andrew, Sam glanced at the participants huddled across the room. "He wants to fingerprint them, book them. He was all set to when he was called away."

Randy pressed his lips into a tight line. His face turned red. "You realize my daughter's in that bunch?" he hissed. "All she wanted to do was take part in a church pageant, make some friends there! My little girl's _never_ been in trouble in her life!"

He looked at his daughter, as she wrung her hands, then waved toward the huddled teenagers. "And look at those other young people! See how frightened they are! You're actually going to put _kids_ in jail, Captain?" Clenching his fists, he glared at Sam fiercely.

The Special Forces angel raised his hand to calm the man down. "I see your anger, Mr. Oates, and believe me, I feel as you do. I don't approve of imprisoning people for putting on church pageants either. Least of all young teenagers."

Andrew nodded agreement. "And neither do I. And I certainly don't approve of imprisoning Kristen Oates. From what I can see, she's a nice girl. Law-abiding." He pulled a pocket watch out of his pants pocket; it gleamed in the harsh overhead light as he gazed at it. Without a word, Andrew shoved it back into his pocket, then glanced toward Tess and Kristen.

Leaning forward, Monica put a hand on the desk. "Won't you release them, Sam?" she pleaded. "It may be the law of the new world government to forbid such assemblies, but it is not against the law of God."

Sam nodded agreement. In a low voice, he said, "I agree, Monica, and I have my orders from the Father." He glanced at the group, then back at Monica. Out loud, he added, "I will let them go. And I will do what I can to keep the police captain from arresting them again, at least for now."

Smiling broadly, Andrew thanked him and approached the church pageant participants. "The police captain has decided to release you," he said loudly. Squealing with joy, they leaped to their feet. In a low voice, he told Tess, "Go ahead and hold the rehearsals. The Father is with us, and He will see that the pageant is held."

Smiling, Tess rose to her feet. "You're a good angel boy," she whispered. Out loud, she told the others, "All right, let's go!" She turned to Kristen. "You may as well go home with your father. You can come to the next rehearsal, tomorrow. Give me the costume; I'll hold for you until then."

Removing the Mary robe, Kristen handed it to Tess, then rushed toward her father, who clasped her against his chest for a long moment. "All right, honey, let's go home," he said. He escorted her out the door, followed by Monica.

Minutes later, as father and daughter approached their front door under a starry night sky, they froze for a moment, standing stock-still. Randy had turned on the porch light upon his departure; the Christmas wreath hung on the door, pine cones and the red satin bow glistening in the light. "What the-?" Randy gulped.

Entering their living room, the two froze, gaping. The Christmas tree Randy had trashed stood in a corner, decorated and brilliantly lit. Ropes of evergreen and sprigs of holly hung across the top of the window; a Nativity scene stood on top of the TV set.

The old Santa Claus figure stood on a bookshelf across the room from the TV set; a small Yule log rested on the coffee table, surrounded by evergreen and pine cones. A tall red candle rose from a hole in its middle. The balls and other decorations on the Christmas tree glistened and glimmered in the lamplight. A glowing glass angel perched at the top of the tree shed soft beams of light around it.

Randy and Kristen exchanged startled glances, then a pleased expression spread across Kristen's face. "Dad, did-did you do this?"

Randy shook his head, gaping at the Christmas tree. "No, honey, I-I threw them away. All of them." He slowly approached the tree, and touched one of the Christmas balls. "How-who-?"

"We did." 

**END OF CHAPTER 4 **

**CHAPTER 5**

Randy whirled around to find Tess gazing at him, near the couch. Monica, Gloria, and Andrew stood in a row next to her; Andrew now wore a beige shirt and pair of blue jeans. "Uh, pardon me! I didn't hear you come in." Randy stared at the tree, then back at them. "That can't be!" He shook his head. "It takes several hours to put all this up, and you've been at the church or the jail most of the time."

"Nevertheless, it's true." Monica clasped her hands in front of her waist. "We did, indeed, put them up for you. Angels can do many things people can't."

An unearthly light poured over her, and over the other three. Randy couldn't believe his eyes, or his ears! How could they have managed to decorate the house in his absence in such a short time? Could they really be angels?

"Angels?" he squeaked. "Come on! You're putting me on." He gaped at the Heavenly light illuminating them. "On second thought-you're _not_ putting me on!"

"That's right, Randy. We're not." Andrew stepped forward. "God sent us here, because He sees the pain in your heart and in Kristen's. He wants to heal your pain, and make you whole again."

Monica nodded agreement. She propped her fingers together as she spoke. "Throwing out the Christmas decorations will not heal your heart, Randy. But giving your life, your heart, over to the Child, in Whose honor this holiday is celebrated, will. Your wife is safe in Heaven, enjoying a new body that God gave her. She's being spared the time you and your daughter are now going through."

Randy rubbed his forehead. "Well, except for the way the pope's oppressing the churches, this time really isn't so bad. We haven't had any wars whatsoever since Antonio Puccini started his new world government and signed that treaty with Israel, and it's been really prosperous. For just about everyone." He smiled ruefully. "And it's rather a relief not to have to worry about carrying cash anymore. With the new system, when I'm shopping, all I have to do is have the cashier swipe my card through the machine, and the amount I'm paying is deducted from my bank account."

"That's true." Andrew touched Randy's arm. "But only for a time. Only for the next two years will this peace and prosperity continue. Then absolute chaos and terror will break out." He paused. "Death and destruction will sweep the globe for the next three-and-a-half years."

Gloria nodded agreement. "And you won't always be allowed to use that card when you shop, Randy. The day is coming when you and everyone else will be required to accept an implant under the skin, on the right hand or the forehead. Puccini will make everyone who accepts it worship him as God, when that time comes. Everyone who refuses will be forbidden to buy or sell. Or hold jobs." She fingered her glasses as she spoke, then wiped some glistening snowflakes off her cheek.

Randy winced. "How do you know that?"

"We know God's Word." Monica gazed at him. "The same Word that predicted the disappearance of millions of people, and this world government. And the new world religion."

Andrew nodded. "Using that card hasn't harmed you spiritually, Randy, but accepting that implant, when the time comes, will. The Bible calls it the Mark of the Beast. Anyone who accepts it will be denied all chance of knowing God. They will spend eternity in Hell."

Randy gulped. He and Kristen exchanged troubled glances. "And those who refuse it-what will happen to them?" Fingering his watch, Randy frowned. He rubbed his fingers over its smooth plastic face.

Sadness welled up in Andrew's eyes. "The vast majority will be arrested and executed. A minority of the Tribulation believers will survive to see the return of Jesus to set up His kingdom, five-and-a-half years from now."

Kristen gulped. "Will-will we _die_?" Her father put an arm around her shoulder.

Smiling compassionately, Monica touched her cheek. "Not now, Kristen, and not in the near future, either. Whether you will during the terrible times that are coming, only God-who loves you and your father so much-only He knows."

She turned to Randy. "God wants to give you His peace, Randy, if you'll take it. He wants to live with you and with Kristen, to be the head of your lives. To fill you with His love and His contentment. The next few years will indeed be extremely difficult, as Andrew and Gloria said, but God will send angels to you whenever you need them. You won't always see them, but they will be there." She raised a warning finger. "Whatever you do, do not accept that implant, when the time comes. The Father wants you to depend on Him instead, not on the Antichrist's financial system. Antonio Puccini is the Antichrist-or, as the Book of Revelation calls him, the beast."

Randy looked at Kristen, biting his lower lip. "God doesn't want me being part of the new religion, either, does He?"

Tess shook her head. The brooch on her chest glistened in the lamplight. "No, Randy, He doesn't. Because the new religion isn't His. It's a man-made religion, inspired by the devil to keep people from knowing God instead of coming to Him. That's why it's working overtime to keep the church from being effective now." She touched Randy's shoulder. "Give your life to Jesus, Randy. Give it to Him now."

Randy and Kristen exchanged glances, then nodded. Silently, as they bowed their heads, they prayed. As Randy raised his head, a feeling of peace flooded his heart. He smiled at Kristen, who grinned, her face glowing. The angels beamed.

"Dad-?" Kristen paused, a questioning look on her face. Chuckling, Randy hugged her against his side.

"All right, honey. You can take part in the pageant. In fact, I'll come and watch it when it's held."

Tess beamed. "God is pleased with you, Randy Oates, and He welcomes you into His family." She looked at Kristen. "Meet me at the church tomorrow evening, and we'll rehearse some more. And I have it on God's authority that we will not be raided again. Sam is an angel, too, and he's going to substitute for the regular police captain until after the pageant."

She smiled at Randy. "You'll be amazed at the level of support you can receive from our support group. God has used it to bless and minister to everyone who's joined. This upcoming pageant is only the beginning." A broad smile spread across Kristen's face. Randy chuckled, then embraced her in a hug. 

**END OF CHAPTER 5 **

**EPILOGUE**

The following Sunday evening, Randy sat in the front seat of the crowded church, watching his daughter play the role of Mary. People lined every pew in the sanctuary, as the actors and actresses performed their roles. Another young girl played the role of the angel announcing the birth of Jesus to the shepherds. The rest of the teenagers played the angelic choir. When the "herald angel" announced the birth of Jesus to the "shepherds," the "angel choir" sang a song based on the familiar verse in Luke. Outside, snow drifted to the ground, forming a thick blanket.

All the while, Randy leaned against the back of the pew, eyes fixed on the actors and singers, and on his daughter, in particular. A proud smile lit up his face; Kristen's own face glowed.

The pageant ended with a rousing rendition of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus." When the song ended, Kristen shed her costume and draped it over the manger. Her father enfolded her in his arms, beaming. "Sweetheart, you did a great job!" Tears wet his face as he hugged her.

A grinning Tess approached them. Turning Kristen loose, Randy turned to her and clasped her hands. "You were right, Tess." He put his left arm around Kristen's shoulders. "We would have missed out on so much if we hadn't come here. And if I'd refused to celebrate Christmas." He hugged Kristen against his side. "Kristen, here, would have certainly suffered. I didn't realize, till very lately, how all this was affecting her."

Monica stepped up next to Tess. "The pageant is a vehicle God has used to honor and focus on the birth of His Son. And He is pleased with the way everybody here took part."

Tess nodded agreement. "The time is coming, Randy, when every believer will be forced into hiding, but for now, you can still worship God and talk about Him, to an extent. And for now, the support group can still meet, to support and pray for one another. This is a time to rejoice that God loves you enough to send you such a gift."

Monica nodded agreement, her pearl earrings bobbing and gleaming in the overhead light. "And He sends messengers in times of trouble, to help you and to remind you of God's love. He will be dispatching us everywhere during the next several years, because the need will be greater than it's ever been."

Randy nodded. "I want to thank you. Both of you. If it hadn't been for you coming to us, I might never have seen what I was doing."

Smiling at Kristen, he helped her put on her coat, then donned his own. Still smiling, he led her out the front door. Peace filled his heart as he and Kristen climbed into his car. Times might get very bad in the near future, but for this Christmas season, there was the gift of God's peace, delivered by angels. And he and Kristen would be exchanging some materials gifts a few days hence.

_Tomorrow, I mean to do some Christmas shopping,_ Randy thought. _Christmas Day is approaching, and we need to start getting ready._ Kristen fastened her seat belt as he turned on the ignition. A dove flew overhead, cooing. 

**THE END **

**©2003, by Kathryn D. Green **

**Note: If you want to learn more about the end times and what lies ahead for the Body of Christ and for the world, go to this URL, . . On it, you will find an extensive list of links to Christian Web sites, many of which refer to end-times prophecy.**

**If you'd like to read my testimony, go to this URL, . .**

15


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

"Daddy, I made us some stew," Kristen announced, as her father entered the dining room. She gazed at him hopefully.

Nodding, Randy plopped into a hard-backed chair and folded his hands on the smooth dining table. "That's fine, dear. I'm ready." He slumped against the edge of the table, staring down at its polished surface. "How was school today?" He did not look at her.

Kristen shrugged. "OK, I guess." Her tone indicated otherwise, but Randy paid no attention.

Kristen ladled two bowls of stew and set one before her father. In silence, they ate. As he chewed his portion in savory mouthfuls, Randy thought about his wife.

Grief engulfed his heart. He missed his wife terribly. Without her to celebrate with him, he could no longer bring himself to celebrate Christmas, ever.

Randy's wife, Laura, had battled frail health for years. She had become a Christian shortly after their wedding, but she'd never been able to persuade her husband to give his heart to Christ. She had quit trying after he had told her, in no uncertain terms, that he was not interested. He had also forbidden her to take their only daughter to church, although he'd allowed Laura to attend herself.

When Randy laid down his spoon, Kristen gazed at him, fidgeting. He frowned at her. "What do you want?"

Biting her lip, Kristen stammered, "Well-uh-" She lowered her gaze as she spoke.

"Well, what?"

Taking a deep breath, Kristen looked straight at him. "I-I was thinking, Dad-" She paused. "Maybe we could put up the tree tonight. Christmas is next week, you know."

Randy shook his head. "We're not celebrating it. Not anymore." He pressed his fingertips against the smooth tabletop.

Kristen gaped at him, her face etched with shock. "Not celebrating it?! Why?"

Randy rose to his feet. "I just don't plain care about it anymore, Kristen. With your mother gone in those disappearances, I don't care about anything. I only celebrated it last year because you wanted to, but my heart wasn't in it. My heart will never be in it, so don't bug me!"

"But Dad-!" Kristen wailed.

Without a word, her father got a can of beer from the refrigerator, then left the dining room. Fighting back tears, Kristen picked up the bowls and spoons and took them to the kitchen. She paused to rub her eyes, then set the dishes in the sink. They landed with a clatter.

"I hate it here!" she muttered, as she turned on the faucet. Hot water poured into the sink; she squeezed a container of dishwashing liquid into the rising water. "Why did Dad have to move us here, anyway? Why couldn't we have stayed in Chicago? All my friends are there!"

She wiped her eyes, gazing down at the sudsy water rising in the sink. "We don't know anyone here! Daddy hasn't made any friends, and neither have I. I hate school here-I don't know anybody!" She banged her fist against the counter; the resulting thud caused pain to shoot through her hand, making her wince. "And now-we're not going to have Christmas! It's not fair!"

In the attic, Randy knelt over the pile of cardboard boxes containing the Christmas decorations. For several moments, he fingered pine cones, the wreath, tree balls, and icicles. The now half-empty can of beer stood on the floor next to him; he'd taken gulps of it on the way up.

As he gazed at one of the tree bells, resting in the palm of his hand, he shook his head. It gleamed in the overhead light as he glared down at it. "What's the use of keeping these decorations?" he muttered. "We're not going to celebrate anyway. They're just taking up unwanted space." He dropped the bell back in the box. It landed with a clink.

He set his jaw. "This is it!" he told himself, rising to his feet. "I'm getting rid of these decorations, all of them. Right now! I'm throwing them away!" He kicked the box, then glared out the window at the snow-covered ground below.

"Dad!" Kristen's voice carried up the stairway. "Dad, someone's ringing the doorbell!"

Randy bent over to pick up the beer can, then strode to the attic entrance. Sure enough, he could barely hear the doorbell jangling. "Go ahead and answer it! I'll be right down," he yelled.

He finished the beer, threw it in a garbage can, then rushed down the carpeted stairs; he found his daughter speaking with two women on the snow-covered porch. One was a heavy-set African-American; the other was slender, with long brown hair and an Irish accent. She held a casserole against her chest. Behind them, the snow glistened in the sunlight. Randy wrapped his arms around his chest as he began to shiver. Kristen, he noticed, was doing the same.

"Mr. Oates?" the black woman asked. Randy nodded. "I'm Tess, and this is Monica. We've stopped by to welcome you to this new neighborhood."

Randy smiled. "This is very good of you. Nobody's been by to welcome us here since we moved to this little town." He sighed. "That kind of surprised me, since I always thought towns were friendlier. Close-knit." He shook his head as he tightened his arms around his chest. "But then, everything's different nowadays."

"Yes." Sadness creased Monica's forehead. "They are."

Randy shook his head. "Forgive me, where are my manners? Come in! You must be cold." He stepped back. Tess and Monica entered the living room, their snow boots making soft thuds in the carpet. Flakes of snow drifted off their boots.

"Have a seat." Randy gestured toward the couch. Kristen took the casserole from Monica and carried it to the kitchen. The two visitors perched on adjoining armchairs; their mattresses sagged under them as they leaned back.

When Kristen returned, Monica smiled at her, then at her father. "We're pleased you've moved here."

"Thank you." Randy nodded. "We had to come here-our old house in the city held too many memories." He sighed. "My wife disappeared with the others, back in August, 2002. Some of my other relatives disappeared, too-my niece, my nephews. All were just children."

He slumped his shoulders, pain in his eyes. "But it was Laura's disappearance that hurt us the most. Kristen and I have been missing her ever since. It finally just got too painful to stay, so we sold the house and moved here." He grimaced. "I thought 9-11 was bad enough, till that happened."

Monica nodded. "So many people lost loved ones in the same occurrence," she said. "That happened to a great many people in this town. All over the world, in fact."

Tess nodded agreement. "We've got a program started at the nearby church. A support group, to help those who are still mourning the loss of their relatives. You'd be welcome to come, Mr. Oates."

Fingering the black leather straps of his watch, Randy shook his head. "No thanks! I want nothing to do with church. My daughter and I are not interested." He moved its smooth, glass-covered face up and down on his wrist.

The group lapsed into silence for the next several minutes. Kristen slumped against the wall, rubbing her fingers through her long hair; Randy stared down at his hands. Silently, Monica prayed that God would soften Randy's heart.

"Mr. Oates," she said, softly, "the support group is putting on a Christmas pageant for the community early next week. Tess, here, is organizing it." She gestured toward Tess, who nodded agreement. "You and Kristen are welcome to come."

Kristen's eyes lit up; she straightened her back. "I'd love to! Please, Dad, can I?"

"No!" Randy glared at her, as irritation surged in his heart. Going to a church pageant was the last thing he wanted to do! Kristen slumped her shoulders. "We are _not_ celebrating Christmas anymore; I told you that!" He pursed his lips; his eyes narrowed as he stared his daughter down. "You may not go, and I don't want to hear any more about it." 

**END OF CHAPTER 1 **

3


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Biting her lower lip, Kristen stared down at her feet. Without a word, she trudged out of the room, shoulders slumped. Her foot thuds faded as she went upstairs. Clearing her throat, Tess stood up. "I've got to get something out of the car."

She left the room. Monica rose to her feet, approached Randy, and perched next to him on the couch, propping her fingers on her knees. Studiously avoiding her face, he stared down at the polished coffee table, whizzing the face of his watch up and down with his thumb and forefinger.

"Mr. Oates," the soft-hearted angel said, gently, "your daughter is grieving, too, and not just for her mother. I sense that. Tell me, has she made friends yet at her new school?"

Randy shook his head. "No. Not to my knowledge. I know she wanted to stay with her old friends, but…" His voice trailed off. He continued to stare at the coffee table. Monica saw her own reflection, and his, in its surface.

She nodded. "Then she's feeling lonely. She's left her old friends, her school, everything that was dear and familiar to her. She has yet to make any friends here." She laid a hand on Randy's arm. "Your daughter desperately needs to make some. She needs something to occupy her. Give her pleasure." Randy stiffened, but Monica kept her hand on his arm.

She looked at him beseechingly. "Why not let her go? There are other teenagers there, in that support group; some of them are going to be in the pageant. All of them go to her new school. It would do her a world of good. She's all alone, staying at home day after day when she gets home from school."

Raising his head, Randy shook it as he stared at her through narrowed eyes. At last, he sighed. "Monica, I can see you're a persuasive woman." He smiled wryly. "I might add that you certainly have a gentle way about you. And a lovely accent."

He leaned back, sighing in surrender. "All right. She can go to the pageant. I certainly never wanted her to be lonely and unhappy." He bit his lower lip. "I suppose you'd like her to have a part, too. Tess is in charge of it, you say?"

"Yes." Monica smiled broadly. "If she wishes to have one, it would please us to have her. Meanwhile, why don't you let her come to the rehearsal tonight? It'll give her a chance to make some friends. Tess and I will be leaving for the church shortly; we'd be glad to take Kristen with us."

Randy rose to his feet. "OK." A wry smile spread across his face. "You know, I get the feeling your friend Tess isn't someone to fool with."

At that moment, Tess re-entered the living room, carrying a brochure. "Mr. Oates, have we your permission to take Kristen with us to the church?" Randy nodded, reluctance etched on his face. Tess smiled. "Rest assured, you won't regret it. It will be good for your daughter. And believe it or not, it'll be good for you, too."

She handed him the glossy brochure, then clasped her hands in front of her waist. "This is a brochure about our support group." With a sigh, he laid it on the coffee table. He gazed down at the newspaper and the television's remote control lying next to it.

Tess went to the foot of the stairway and called Kristen. The young girl came down; when she reached the floor, she slouched against the wall, gazing at Tess.

"Get your coat," Tess ordered. "Your father has given you permission to go to the pageant on Sunday. Meanwhile, how would you like to come with us to the rehearsal, to meet some other kids?"

Kristen's eyes lit up. She immediately straightened her back. "I'd love to! Thanks, Daddy." Randy waved toward her, dismissing her, then picked up his newspaper and sat down. He paid no further attention to the two angels. Tess shook her head as she frowned at him.

Kristen rushed up the stairs; a few minutes later, she darted back down, wearing a bright red coat and a brown winter cap. She raced out the front door, followed by Tess and Monica. She climbed into the front seat of the bright-red Cadillac, next to Tess. The air felt frigid, so Tess raised the convertible's top and turned on the heater.

As they pulled out, Kristen pulled a comb out of her coat pocket and ran it through her hair a few times. A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the church.

The group entered the sanctuary, where adults and teenagers milled around in costumes. Their shoes softly thudded on the carpet as they strode up the middle aisle. Tess smiled. "I'm back, everybody! And I've brought in someone to take Maria's place."

A man wearing a shepherd's costume approached her. "Who?" He removed his glasses as he stared at Kristen.

"This young lady." Tess laid a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "She's going to play the role of Mary."

The others cheered; Kristen fought back a gulp, then rubbed her eyes. Nothing would please her more than to take part in a Christmas pageant-she missed the Christmas celebrations that had been so prevalent prior to the disappearances a year-and-a-half before. But she just knew her father would never approve!

Eyes wide with fear, she turned toward the heavy-set angel. "I-I'd love to take part, but-but-my dad…" Her voice trailed off. Clearing her throat, she added, "I want to, Tess. But my daddy will never let me. He hates Christmas." Misery welled up, forming a heavy stone in her heart. "He didn't used to, not while my mom was here. But now, he says we're never going to celebrate it again!"

Monica laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, Kristen," she assured the young girl. "I'll have a talk with him, myself, while you and the others rehearse. I'll do what I can to persuade him."

Kristen nodded, but fear created a rise of nausea in her throat. _It'll take more than Monica to persuade my dad,_ she thought.

Tess patted her arm. "You sit here right now, while we finish rehearsing the scene about the angels and shepherds. I'll give you a costume when we're done, and then we'll start to rehearse your scene. You can make friends with the other kids here when rehearsal's done-they're going to play the angelic choir."

She picked up a baton and marched toward the stage. "All right! Time to take your places. We'll rehearse the shepherds' scene first, then we'll rehearse the angels' song."

Kristen removed her coat, her cap, and her gloves, and laid them on the front pew. She perched next to the pew's edge, and watched as Tess led the actors through their paces. At one point, a young woman with shoulder-length reddish-brown hair, whom Tess called Gloria, had a group of teenagers rehearse Christmas songs. All, she noticed, were dressed as angels.

Making a valiant effort to keep the longing out of her eyes, Kristen took a deep breath. There was no doubt in her mind that, as soon as her father found out, he would forbid not only her participation but her very attendance at the pageant. He had never allowed her mother to take her to church; he'd always been hostile toward the very idea.

_I wish my mom could have taken me to church,_ Kristen thought, shifting her gaze to the wood-paneled wall next to her. _These people are nice._

Old memories seeped into her mind. Kristen thought about how her mother used to sing her to sleep at night, after having her say her prayers…how she'd dress up for church, put on her favorite necklace and brooch, and dab her ears with some perfume…and how she would hug Kristen when she came home from school.

_My mom sure looked pretty in those nice church dresses,_ she thought. _And she always looked so happy when she came home. So peaceful!_ She ran her fingers through her hair as she reminisced.

"Kristen?" Tess's voice jolted her. "Come here, Kristen; Gloria and I have a costume for you. It's time for you to rehearse."

Rubbing her eyes, Kristen leaped to her feet and raced toward the stage. Tess held out a dark-blue woolen robe. She helped the young girl drape it around her body and over her head, then led her to a makeshift reconstruction of a stable. A teenage boy, dressed in a Bible robe, stood there, waiting.

Meanwhile, Gloria led the other teenagers off the stage and told them to sit on the front right pew. Returning to the stage, she pushed her glasses up her nose and brushed her reddish-brown hair out of her eyes.

"Hi." The boy smiled at Kristen. "I'm Travis Thompson. Nice to meet you. I'm playing Joseph."

"Thanks." Kristen plastered a smile on her face. "I'm Kristen. Kristen Oates. My dad and I just moved here a few weeks ago."

Before rehearsal could continue, the front door slammed open. A man wearing a gray business suit strode into the sanctuary, followed by a couple of policemen.

"Where is Pastor Thomas?" he asked. His voice boomed all over the sanctuary.

"I'm Pastor Thomas." A man wearing a clerical suit approached the visitor.

The other man stopped in front of the minister. "I am Allen Davidson, and I have come here to announce that church pageants in any form are forbidden. You are hereby ordered to cease and desist these preparations right now!" He scanned the actors and crew, a stern expression etching his face. 

**END OF CHAPTER 2 **

3


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

As Kristen moaned, she froze to see a look of rage form on Tess's face. _She's mad!_ Kristen thought. _I'll bet she's going to tell him off!_ Gloria looked from Tess to the policeman, a bewildered expression on her face. Kristen approached the edge of the stage, followed by Travis, and stared at the man, then at Tess.

Rage indeed was surging in Tess's heart. Even though she had known, from ages past, that things would be this way during this perilous time of history, it still outraged her that the authorities would shut down all public expressions of Christian faith, including church pageants. Silently, she prayed for patience and discretion, then crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at the officer.

"And may I ask who gave these orders? And why?"

The man looked at her condescendingly. "The _pope_ gave the orders, madam, and for good reason. Christianity is-and has always been-an intolerant religion, and the pope will not brook that. No religion that claims there's only one way to God can be allowed in this day and age. This is a new day, a day of world community. Of oneness." He wagged his finger. "You people and others like you are endangering that oneness; that will not be tolerated."

He turned back to the pastor. "If you _must_ put on a pageant, put on one approved by the religion authorities. I can send you some skits to use. But this pageant will not be held; anyone attempting to perform it will be arrested and jailed!"

Without another word, he left, followed by the police officers. As the door slammed shut behind them, the participants murmured, dismay in their voices and on their faces. Gloria tilted her head, a bewildered expression still on her face. Kristen leaned against the podium, moaning softly. Next to her, Travis clenched his fists, glaring at the door.

Tess raised her hands for silence. "Listen, everybody!" The crowd fell silent. Putting her hands on her hips, Tess glared at the front door, then turned back to the participants. "Don't worry about what that man said. I will do everything I can to make sure the pageant is held, no matter what the pope's orders are." She wagged her finger for emphasis. "All of you, get back on the stage! We have much work to do."

She turned to Kristen. "Baby, that includes you. You and Travis take your places in the stable. Gloria, keep an eye on the other young people-you'll be leading them through their rehearsal again soon." Gloria nodded.

As they all resumed their rehearsals, Monica drove to the Oates house. Silently, she prayed that God would soften Randy's heart and open it to His love. The red sun had dropped below the houses. When she pulled up into the driveway, she saw some tinsel sticking out of the trash cans.

Monica hopped out of the red convertible and stopped when she reached them. Both were full of Christmas decorations. She sighed, as pain welled up. "So, Randy has thrown them away."

She raised her face toward the sky in silent prayer; receiving her orders, she approached the front door. Footfalls grew louder; a few seconds after she knocked, the door swung open. Randy stood in the doorway, shoulders slumped, a remote control in his left hand.

"Hi, Monica." He sighed. "Come on in."

Monica followed him into the living room. Randy gestured toward the couch. As Monica perched on it, she saw some brochures and pamphlets spread out on the coffee table. All, she noticed, had been sent by the new world religion. CNN was airing a special report about the new world religion's intended programs.

Randy plopped on the couch next to her; the mattress sagged underneath as he leaned back. He pressed the power button on the remote; the TV screen went black. The control landed on the coffee table with a thud; Randy gestured toward the brochures. "The new religion's been sending them out to everyone. I've been receiving them week after week. I was just going through them."

Biting his lip, he shook his head. "They really want everyone to join. I've even been getting calls from them, asking to come to my house and sign me up. I tell them no, I'm not interested."

Monica nodded. The news didn't surprise her. "They've been calling everybody." She clasped her hands as she spoke.

Randy leaned against the soft back of the couch. "I'll be honest, Monica; I don't feel right about this new religion. I've never liked the church, but…but…" His voice trailed off. Sighing heavily, he hung his head.

Pain welled up in Monica's heart as she watched him stare down at his hands, shoulders slumped. To think of anyone suffering as Randy was doing was awful. She yearned to ease his grief, and to give him and his daughter something to live and hope for.

"My wife was a fine woman," Randy said. "A little too religious for me, but a good wife and a good mother. She used to give me surprises when I was away on trips. Leave them in my suitcase. I'm a salesman, you see, and my job often takes me on the road." He sighed. "I sure took her for granted."

He looked up at the pine door across the room. "I loved Christmas when she was here. But with her gone-well, I just can't bring myself to celebrate it. Not anymore. It's been a year and a half since Laura disappeared, yet it feels like it was yesterday!" He shook his head. "I shouldn't have let Kristen go to that pageant rehearsal, Monica. It can't come to any good. Not for either of us."

Monica laid a hand on his shoulder. "Your daughter really needs something to bring some joy into her life. Something to rejoice over." She paused. "She needs the hope of Christmas now, more than she ever has. And so do you. When you feel least like celebrating Christmas, that's when you need it the most. Please think about it."

Randy did not respond. He looked down at his hands again, moving the face of his watch up and down with his thumb and forefinger. Monica squeezed his shoulders. "Why don't you let her have a part in the pageant? It would lift her spirits."

Randy stiffened and glared at her. "And depress mine!" he barked. "I want nothing to do with Christmas or church, now or ever!" Banging his fist on the table with a thud, he leaped to his feet. Monica slowly rose to hers, keeping her eyes fixed on his now-reddened face. "You're ganging up on me, both of you, and I won't have it! I want you to leave immediately!" He pointed toward the door.

In that instant, a pounding on the door startled them. Randy strode toward it and swung it open. "Oh! Hello, officer. Come in. Is something wrong?"

Andrew, wearing a gray winter coat over a policeman's uniform, stepped in, shaking snow off his gloved hands. Frigid air rushed into the living room, until Andrew shut the door. "Hello, Monica." Monica smiled in greeting.

The angel of death turned toward Randy. "Mr. Oates?" Randy nodded. "Mr. Oates, your daughter's in trouble." He spoke slowly.

"What?" Randy grabbed his coat collar. "Tell me! Where's my daughter; what's happened to her?"

Nodding toward Monica, Andrew unbuttoned his coat, then removed his police cap. His badge sparkled in the lamplight. Glancing at Monica, he squared his shoulders, his eyes somber. "I was just passing the church on the next block in my squad car; there were several police cars parked there and a police wagon. They were arresting the people inside the church. I stopped there to see what was happening."

Andrew paused, taking a deep breath. "One of them was your daughter. She was wearing a blue Mary costume. I was sent here to tell you." He paused again, sadness etched on his face. "They're going to be charged with unlawful assembly." He folded his hands across his chest. 

**END OF CHAPTER 3 **

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	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Randy stared at him, then at Monica, as shock and disbelief rushed through his whole being. Kristen arrested? Charged for unlawful assembly? And just for rehearsing for a Christmas pageant? It was unthinkable!

"I'll kill them," he muttered. "How dare they take my daughter?!" He clenched his hands into such tight balls his knuckles turned white.

Monica laid a hand on his arm. "We will go to the police station right now. When we get there, I'll do what I can to persuade the police captain to let them go."

Randy nodded. "I'll get my coat." He rushed upstairs, shoes thudding on the carpeted stairs, as Monica and Andrew exchanged troubled glances.

On the second floor, as Randy entered his bedroom, he stopped to take a deep breath. "Pull yourself together, Randy," he told himself. "You'll be no use to Kristen, like this." He gazed at a framed photograph of his wife, sitting on the nightstand next to his bed, then sighed. "Laura, you are so fortunate you're not here. You'd be crushed to see the churches being ground down like this."

Thinking about that brought back the memory of the night she had disappeared...

_Randy awakened from a sound sleep. Something was not right. _

_He turned over, and laid his arm across-a soft, crumpled bedspread. Nothing lay under it. Yawning, he opened his eyes, then froze. His wife was gone! _

_Frowning, he pushed himself upward into a half-sitting position. "Laura? Where are you?" _

_No answer. He maneuvered his legs over the edge of the bed, pushed the bedcovers back, and stood up. Pulling back the covers on his wife's side, he saw Laura's nightgown and dentures lying on the crumpled sheet. It was a silent August night, and darkness filled the room. _

"_Laura?" Randy called softly. He didn't want to wake Kristen. "Laura! Where are you?" _

_He rushed out of the room, and spent the next 15 minutes searching the whole house. Kristen was in bed asleep, but his wife was nowhere to be found!..._

Randy shook his head, attempting to drive away the memories. "Kristen needs my help now," he muttered, marching toward the closet door. "And she's going to get it!" He ground his teeth as he yanked the closet open. "I swear, so help me, if they do anything to my daughter, I'll wring their necks!"

Crouched on a bench in the crowded police station, Kristen rocked back and forth, weeping. "Why?" she moaned. "Why me? Why-_why-_?" Her voice choked.

"Shh." Tess's voice, low and soothing, calmed her; in the next instant, the heavy-set angel bent over to hug the hysterical girl. "God is with us, Kristen, and He will see us through this. These are bad times, all over the world, and it will be very hard on churches everywhere. All will need God to see them through these times."

Kristen shook her head, then wiped her eyes. "But why?" She glared at Tess. "It's no crime to put on a pageant!"

Sighing, Tess perched on the bench beside her. Clasping her hands together, she glanced out the window at the darkening landscape, then back at Kristen. "I'm afraid it is, now. Every nation on this planet is under a world government and a world religion, and that religion has forbidden Christian pageants."

She laid a hand on Kristen's shoulder. "Baby, listen to me. God is with us, and He intends for our pageant to be held. He will make a way to do it." Swallowing a sob, Kristen rubbed her eyes, then slouched against the wall. Tess put her arm around the young girl's shoulder, hugging Kristen against her. "It's OK, baby. I'm with you. And more importantly, so is God." Her perfume wafted toward Kristen's nose; the feel of Tess's arm around Kristen's upper back comforted her.

Nodding, Kristen scanned the assembled participants huddled in kneeling and sitting positions on the black-and-white tile floor. Even the other teenagers had been arrested; clasping a black leather purse in her right hand, Gloria was kneeling with them, trying to comfort them. Kristen had moved away from them earlier, not wanting to sit with the other kids in these conditions. At the captain's desk, an African-American man sat reading a sheaf of papers. An overhead light bulb shed a harsh light throughout the room. How long, Kristen wondered, until they would all be locked up in crowded jail cells?

The door swung open; her father marched into the station, face etched with an enraged expression, and followed by Monica and another policeman. Kristen leaped to her feet. "Daddy!"

Tess rose to her feet and touched the girl's shoulder. "Not now. Your daddy and Monica are here to try to get us released."

Andrew approached the police captain, who laid down his papers and leaned back in his chair. "Sam?" he said, in a low voice, as he leaned his elbow on the table's unyielding surface. Unknown to the humans beings held in that station, Sam was a Special Forces angel; he had seniority over Tess.

Sam nodded. "The regular captain was called out on an emergency, and he won't be back tonight." As Monica stepped up next to Andrew, Sam glanced at the participants huddled across the room. "He wants to fingerprint them, book them. He was all set to when he was called away."

Randy pressed his lips into a tight line. His face turned red. "You realize my daughter's in that bunch?" he hissed. "All she wanted to do was take part in a church pageant, make some friends there! My little girl's _never_ been in trouble in her life!"

He looked at his daughter, as she wrung her hands, then waved toward the huddled teenagers. "And look at those other young people! See how frightened they are! You're actually going to put _kids_ in jail, Captain?" Clenching his fists, he glared at Sam fiercely.

The Special Forces angel raised his hand to calm the man down. "I see your anger, Mr. Oates, and believe me, I feel as you do. I don't approve of imprisoning people for putting on church pageants either. Least of all young teenagers."

Andrew nodded agreement. "And neither do I. And I certainly don't approve of imprisoning Kristen Oates. From what I can see, she's a nice girl. Law-abiding." He pulled a pocket watch out of his pants pocket; it gleamed in the harsh overhead light as he gazed at it. Without a word, Andrew shoved it back into his pocket, then glanced toward Tess and Kristen.

Leaning forward, Monica put a hand on the desk. "Won't you release them, Sam?" she pleaded. "It may be the law of the new world government to forbid such assemblies, but it is not against the law of God."

Sam nodded agreement. In a low voice, he said, "I agree, Monica, and I have my orders from the Father." He glanced at the group, then back at Monica. Out loud, he added, "I will let them go. And I will do what I can to keep the police captain from arresting them again, at least for now."

Smiling broadly, Andrew thanked him and approached the church pageant participants. "The police captain has decided to release you," he said loudly. Squealing with joy, they leaped to their feet. In a low voice, he told Tess, "Go ahead and hold the rehearsals. The Father is with us, and He will see that the pageant is held."

Smiling, Tess rose to her feet. "You're a good angel boy," she whispered. Out loud, she told the others, "All right, let's go!" She turned to Kristen. "You may as well go home with your father. You can come to the next rehearsal, tomorrow. Give me the costume; I'll hold for you until then."

Removing the Mary robe, Kristen handed it to Tess, then rushed toward her father, who clasped her against his chest for a long moment. "All right, honey, let's go home," he said. He escorted her out the door, followed by Monica.

Minutes later, as father and daughter approached their front door under a starry night sky, they froze for a moment, standing stock-still. Randy had turned on the porch light upon his departure; the Christmas wreath hung on the door, pine cones and the red satin bow glistening in the light. "What the-?" Randy gulped.

Entering their living room, the two froze, gaping. The Christmas tree Randy had trashed stood in a corner, decorated and brilliantly lit. Ropes of evergreen and sprigs of holly hung across the top of the window; a Nativity scene stood on top of the TV set.

The old Santa Claus figure stood on a bookshelf across the room from the TV set; a small Yule log rested on the coffee table, surrounded by evergreen and pine cones. A tall red candle rose from a hole in its middle. The balls and other decorations on the Christmas tree glistened and glimmered in the lamplight. A glowing glass angel perched at the top of the tree shed soft beams of light around it.

Randy and Kristen exchanged startled glances, then a pleased expression spread across Kristen's face. "Dad, did-did you do this?"

Randy shook his head, gaping at the Christmas tree. "No, honey, I-I threw them away. All of them." He slowly approached the tree, and touched one of the Christmas balls. "How-who-?"

"We did." 

**END OF CHAPTER 4 **

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	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Randy whirled around to find Tess gazing at him, near the couch. Monica, Gloria, and Andrew stood in a row next to her; Andrew now wore a beige shirt and pair of blue jeans. "Uh, pardon me! I didn't hear you come in." Randy stared at the tree, then back at them. "That can't be!" He shook his head. "It takes several hours to put all this up, and you've been at the church or the jail most of the time."

"Nevertheless, it's true." Monica clasped her hands in front of her waist. "We did, indeed, put them up for you. Angels can do many things people can't."

An unearthly light poured over her, and over the other three. Randy couldn't believe his eyes, or his ears! How could they have managed to decorate the house in his absence in such a short time? Could they really be angels?

"Angels?" he squeaked. "Come on! You're putting me on." He gaped at the Heavenly light illuminating them. "On second thought-you're _not_ putting me on!"

"That's right, Randy. We're not." Andrew stepped forward. "God sent us here, because He sees the pain in your heart and in Kristen's. He wants to heal your pain, and make you whole again."

Monica nodded agreement. She propped her fingers together as she spoke. "Throwing out the Christmas decorations will not heal your heart, Randy. But giving your life, your heart, over to the Child, in Whose honor this holiday is celebrated, will. Your wife is safe in Heaven, enjoying a new body that God gave her. She's being spared the time you and your daughter are now going through."

Randy rubbed his forehead. "Well, except for the way the pope's oppressing the churches, this time really isn't so bad. We haven't had any wars whatsoever since Antonio Puccini started his new world government and signed that treaty with Israel, and it's been really prosperous. For just about everyone." He smiled ruefully. "And it's rather a relief not to have to worry about carrying cash anymore. With the new system, when I'm shopping, all I have to do is have the cashier swipe my card through the machine, and the amount I'm paying is deducted from my bank account."

"That's true." Andrew touched Randy's arm. "But only for a time. Only for the next two years will this peace and prosperity continue. Then absolute chaos and terror will break out." He paused. "Death and destruction will sweep the globe for the next three-and-a-half years."

Gloria nodded agreement. "And you won't always be allowed to use that card when you shop, Randy. The day is coming when you and everyone else will be required to accept an implant under the skin, on the right hand or the forehead. Puccini will make everyone who accepts it worship him as God, when that time comes. Everyone who refuses will be forbidden to buy or sell. Or hold jobs." She fingered her glasses as she spoke, then wiped some glistening snowflakes off her cheek.

Randy winced. "How do you know that?"

"We know God's Word." Monica gazed at him. "The same Word that predicted the disappearance of millions of people, and this world government. And the new world religion."

Andrew nodded. "Using that card hasn't harmed you spiritually, Randy, but accepting that implant, when the time comes, will. The Bible calls it the Mark of the Beast. Anyone who accepts it will be denied all chance of knowing God. They will spend eternity in Hell."

Randy gulped. He and Kristen exchanged troubled glances. "And those who refuse it-what will happen to them?" Fingering his watch, Randy frowned. He rubbed his fingers over its smooth plastic face.

Sadness welled up in Andrew's eyes. "The vast majority will be arrested and executed. A minority of the Tribulation believers will survive to see the return of Jesus to set up His kingdom, five-and-a-half years from now."

Kristen gulped. "Will-will we _die_?" Her father put an arm around her shoulder.

Smiling compassionately, Monica touched her cheek. "Not now, Kristen, and not in the near future, either. Whether you will during the terrible times that are coming, only God-who loves you and your father so much-only He knows."

She turned to Randy. "God wants to give you His peace, Randy, if you'll take it. He wants to live with you and with Kristen, to be the head of your lives. To fill you with His love and His contentment. The next few years will indeed be extremely difficult, as Andrew and Gloria said, but God will send angels to you whenever you need them. You won't always see them, but they will be there." She raised a warning finger. "Whatever you do, do not accept that implant, when the time comes. The Father wants you to depend on Him instead, not on the Antichrist's financial system. Antonio Puccini is the Antichrist-or, as the Book of Revelation calls him, the beast."

Randy looked at Kristen, biting his lower lip. "God doesn't want me being part of the new religion, either, does He?"

Tess shook her head. The brooch on her chest glistened in the lamplight. "No, Randy, He doesn't. Because the new religion isn't His. It's a man-made religion, inspired by the devil to keep people from knowing God instead of coming to Him. That's why it's working overtime to keep the church from being effective now." She touched Randy's shoulder. "Give your life to Jesus, Randy. Give it to Him now."

Randy and Kristen exchanged glances, then nodded. Silently, as they bowed their heads, they prayed. As Randy raised his head, a feeling of peace flooded his heart. He smiled at Kristen, who grinned, her face glowing. The angels beamed.

"Dad-?" Kristen paused, a questioning look on her face. Chuckling, Randy hugged her against his side.

"All right, honey. You can take part in the pageant. In fact, I'll come and watch it when it's held."

Tess beamed. "God is pleased with you, Randy Oates, and He welcomes you into His family." She looked at Kristen. "Meet me at the church tomorrow evening, and we'll rehearse some more. And I have it on God's authority that we will not be raided again. Sam is an angel, too, and he's going to substitute for the regular police captain until after the pageant."

She smiled at Randy. "You'll be amazed at the level of support you can receive from our support group. God has used it to bless and minister to everyone who's joined. This upcoming pageant is only the beginning." A broad smile spread across Kristen's face. Randy chuckled, then embraced her in a hug. 

**END OF CHAPTER 5 **

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	7. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

The following Sunday evening, Randy sat in the front seat of the crowded church, watching his daughter play the role of Mary. People lined every pew in the sanctuary, as the actors and actresses performed their roles. Another young girl played the role of the angel announcing the birth of Jesus to the shepherds. The rest of the teenagers played the angelic choir. When the "herald angel" announced the birth of Jesus to the "shepherds," the "angel choir" sang a song based on the familiar verse in Luke. Outside, snow drifted to the ground, forming a thick blanket.

All the while, Randy leaned against the back of the pew, eyes fixed on the actors and singers, and on his daughter, in particular. A proud smile lit up his face; Kristen's own face glowed.

The pageant ended with a rousing rendition of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus." When the song ended, Kristen shed her costume and draped it over the manger. Her father enfolded her in his arms, beaming. "Sweetheart, you did a great job!" Tears wet his face as he hugged her.

A grinning Tess approached them. Turning Kristen loose, Randy turned to her and clasped her hands. "You were right, Tess." He put his left arm around Kristen's shoulders. "We would have missed out on so much if we hadn't come here. And if I'd refused to celebrate Christmas." He hugged Kristen against his side. "Kristen, here, would have certainly suffered. I didn't realize, till very lately, how all this was affecting her."

Monica stepped up next to Tess. "The pageant is a vehicle God has used to honor and focus on the birth of His Son. And He is pleased with the way everybody here took part."

Tess nodded agreement. "The time is coming, Randy, when every believer will be forced into hiding, but for now, you can still worship God and talk about Him, to an extent. And for now, the support group can still meet, to support and pray for one another. This is a time to rejoice that God loves you enough to send you such a gift."

Monica nodded agreement, her pearl earrings bobbing and gleaming in the overhead light. "And He sends messengers in times of trouble, to help you and to remind you of God's love. He will be dispatching us everywhere during the next several years, because the need will be greater than it's ever been."

Randy nodded. "I want to thank you. Both of you. If it hadn't been for you coming to us, I might never have seen what I was doing."

Smiling at Kristen, he helped her put on her coat, then donned his own. Still smiling, he led her out the front door. Peace filled his heart as he and Kristen climbed into his car. Times might get very bad in the near future, but for this Christmas season, there was the gift of God's peace, delivered by angels. And he and Kristen would be exchanging some materials gifts a few days hence.

_Tomorrow, I mean to do some Christmas shopping,_ Randy thought. _Christmas Day is approaching, and we need to start getting ready._ Kristen fastened her seat belt as he turned on the ignition. A dove flew overhead, cooing. 

**THE END **

**©2003, by KathyG.**

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